She Was Mine
by HetaWriter - HetaReader
Summary: Antonio moved to the city while leaving his love behind. His roommate is a grouchy British man named Arthur. Starting on the wrong foot, Arthur however becomes accustomed to the cheerful Spaniard, despite his tough front. However, that all falls once Antonio's heart breaks and he's in a position the British man is quite familiar with.


_Hey guys, just me as usual, this time, here is a UKSpain friendship piece. Honestly, though I can definitely see UKSpain working out as a couple, I kind of prefer them more as friends, really (though I _have _considered writing a romantic piece - England is a lot like Romano)._

_Anyway, this was inspired by listening to the song "She Was Mine" by AJ Raphael ft. Jesse Barrera. It's a really sweet song, but it's also kinda sad - to those who don't know why, just listen to the song or read the following fic. Music is basically one of my biggest inspirations (since I wrote two fics based on Vocaloid songs XD)_

_This AU is a human AU, but more back then such as 1990-2000, or something around those lines._

_**Disclaimer**: I do NOT own Hetalia or the song this piece was inspired by.  
_

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"Must you really leave?"

Antonio couldn't help the sad smile that broke onto his face; he would've loved nothing more than to just hold the Belgian woman before him tightly and never let her go. However, both of them knew perfectly that the Spaniard had to leave – his train was almost ready to depart.

"I'm sorry Emma, _mi amor_," he whispered. "But I have to go…"

The Belgian woman bit her lip as she dropped forward, enveloping her arms around the Spaniard's torso. She buried her head in his chest and soon, Antonio could feel his shirt grow wet from her tears as he wrapped his own arms around her petite frame.

Sure enough, when they pulled apart from their embrace, Emma's cheeks were stained and her usually cheery green eyes were red and bloodshot. Antonio felt his heart rip itself apart upon seeing that face upon his love – that face should be non-existent. He tenderly traced another tear that plopped down from the Belgian woman's face with his thumb and planted a soft kiss on her temple, burying his head momentarily in her golden hair, breathing in her scent.

She smelled just like chocolate.

"We will write to one another," Antonio said, forcing a smile on his face. "We will write, and we will love each other always. Promise?" he held out his pinkie.

Emma sniffed and wiped her tears away, pushing a brave smile on her face as she nodded, "Promise!" and with that, she held her pinkie out and linked it with the Spaniard's.

Hearing the train's loud whistle, warning for the passengers to get on before departing, Antonio quickly leaned down again and planted a kiss to his love's lips. The kiss was soft, tender and lasted for only a few seconds, but it filled the both of them with an intense warm and fuzzy feeling from head to toe.

Hopping onto the train, Antonio took a seat and peered out of the window, flashing a brilliant beam to the Belgium woman and waving to her as the train began to start on its way. Likewise, Emma also shone a smile as she waved after him.

With another loud whistle blaring, the train began to speed away.

As soon as the station and Emma were no longer in his line of view, Antonio sat properly in his seat and leaned back, his gaze now fixing out onto a clock tower that towered over a great city. He gave a sad smile as he realized that he wasn't only leaving his love, but his home behind. He sighed as he saw from the clock tower's finely intricate face that its black hands were now indicating the time.

'_It's only three in the afternoon,'_ the Spaniard thought to himself. Past the clock tower, the sun's rays sparkled onto a lake, its surface clear and glinting. Antonio smiled at the beautiful sight and heaved a sigh; he never thought he would be leaving everything behind. However, that all changed when he was offered a job in the city.

Antonio had always wanted to be a musician for his entire life and this job was able to offer him that chance. During his graduation, Antonio had played a song he composed himself on his guitar and sang in a deep, yet tender voice. Among the crowd, a man who looked after the grand auditorium in the city offered Antonio to perform for every Wednesday and possibly play guitar for various acts.

The Spaniard naturally agreed to that; however the final decision almost tore him apart when he found out that he was going to leave everything and everyone behind.

Everyone reacted as graciously as they could. His two best friends, Francis and Gilbert were highly supportive of him and the three of them had a final drink at the pub in town to celebrate Antonio's good fortune. Antonio's cousins Lovino and Feliciano were happy for him, too. However, on the day of the farewell party that was being held for the Spaniard, Lovino had suddenly burst into tears halfway through his speech.

Of course, Antonio ran forward to embrace his Italian cousin as Lovino wept about the bastard going.

Even Emma's older brother Lars had wished him good luck and had admitted that he would miss him (though rather begrudgingly).

Antonio was deeply moved by everyone's goodbyes and had on the night before he boarded the train, before he went to bed, he found something wet slide down his cheek from his eyes. Glancing in the mirror, he found himself in tears.

This wasn't a full-on goodbye though – Antonio would visit from time-to-time if he made enough. Hopefully. He also promised with everyone to write and they would respond.

Antonio sighed as he felt more comfortable in his seat; pretty soon, his eyelids started to droop and the Spaniard couldn't help but take a siesta as the train continued speeding to its destination.

As he slept, Antonio found himself on a path of stars as the night sky shone around him. Normally, Antonio wasn't much of a night person; however he had to admit that the night had its own beauty to it. As Antonio continued walking along the starry path, he could see a figure in the distance waving at him. Squinting, the Spaniard tilted his head to get a better look.

"Emma?"

Sure enough, it was the Belgian woman. His love. She smiled widely as she beckoned him towards her. Then, she started to run.

Antonio smirked as he began to run after her. Soon, he started laughing as he called, "I'm gonna get you, _mi amor_! I'm gonna get you!"

Her own tinkling laugh reached his ears as he finally shot forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, chuckling himself. He spun her around and felt his heart flutter as she smiled up at him; smiled that bright little smile she would wear whenever they were together. Antonio leaned forward, shutting his eyes as he began closing the gap between their lips…

A loud, shrill whistle pierced the air, and Antonio's ears.

The Spaniard gave a start as he made a slight yelp; startled from the train's whistle. He glanced around and peered through the window, shocked to discover that he was now in the city. Steam billowed out of a factory and Antonio could hear the chatter and laughter everywhere. He exited the train with his bag and guitar in hand and, gazing down at a piece of paper with an address on it, started searching for the place he would stay at.

Antonio had been offered an apartment near the grand auditorium so he wouldn't have to travel so far. However, the Spaniard was told that he had to share the apartment with another musician – one that played the flute and was a frequent occupant to the grand auditorium.

The Spaniard didn't mind really; it would be nice to make a new friend out of his roommate.

_Hopefully_ they wanted to be friends with him.

"You lost?" a voice traced with a thick accent broke into his thoughts. Antonio turned around and saw a man with messy, strawberry blonde hair and glistening, ruby red eyes that would rival Gilbert's. He was also wearing a black trench coat, gloves and a little top hat on his head and also had a fang protruding from one side of his mouth.

"_Si_, can you show me how to get here, please?" Antonio showed the man the address on the piece of paper.

The man's eyes twinkled, "I have an apartment there!"

"Really?" Antonio's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

The man laughed, "Yeah, that's where I live. But I'm in apartment 102. 101…it seems like you'll be sharing with Artie."

"Artie?" Antonio arched an eyebrow and tilted his head.

"Yeah! He's one of my closest friends," the man explained as he beckoned Antonio towards the way. "Funny man he is; just to warn you though, he _can _be a bit of a grouch. Especially towards strangers; he wasn't happy when he was told that he had to share with someone who's also working at the grand auditorium."

"Oh, really?" Antonio looked slightly unsure. "He's not…angry with me, is he?"

The man gave a chuckle, "Nah! He _was _annoyed that he wasn't alerted earlier, though – he was just told a week ago. But, he's not a bad guy. What's your name?"

"Antonio!" the Spaniard smiled as he shook hands with the strange man. "How about you?"

"Dracul," the man grinned, revealing sharp canines that couldn't help but make Antonio's skin crawl. "I work at the magic store nearby."

Thanks to Dracul's guidance and company, Antonio was eventually able to reach the apartment. The building was tall and black; however it looked very sleek and smooth with brightened panels, illuminating a rather chic look. By boarding the elevator after gaining his key and speaking to the man who run the grand auditorium, the pair eventually reached the floor where both of their apartments were.

Antonio was glad that Dracul gave him pieces of information about Arthur so as not to get on his new roommate's bad side. From what the Spaniard learned, Arthur was a British man who was as fascinated with magic as Dracul and their other friend, a Norwegian man named Lukas. Arthur also liked drinking tea and sewing, apparently, as well as reading.

"Well, here is my stop," Dracul grinned as he jerked his thumb at a wooden door with a golden 102 as well as a peephole. "It was nice meeting you, Antonio!"

After saying goodbye to Dracul, Antonio was able to open the door and enter the apartment.

He glanced around to see a spotless room with white walls, black carpeting and a clean kitchen as well as a television. Antonio gazed around and eventually came to a glass door that led to a small balcony. He beamed as he peered out into the open and saw a city that twinkled lights as bright as the stars in the black sky that hovered above. He sighed as he could feel the cool breeze caress his face and tussle his hair.

"Who the bloody hell are you?!"

Antonio almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a strange voice cut in sharply. The Spaniard turned around and was met by fierce, forest green eyes that were coupled with the largest eyebrows he had ever seen.

The other man also had messy, blonde hair and a scowl was crossing his features. He had his arms crossed over his chest as well as he continued glowering at Antonio, silently commanding for an explanation.

"Oh! You must be Arthur," noted Antonio.

"Yes, that is my name," said Arthur suspiciously, his voice traced with a British accent. "Now, answer my question, you wanker – who the bloody hell are you?"

"I'm Antonio!" chirped the Spaniard as he flashed a bright beam. "I'm your new roommate!"

Arthur arched an eyebrow as he eyed the Spaniard up and down. He snorted, "So, _you're _the one who they lumped on me…"

Antonio couldn't help but feel slightly hurt from the British man's words – it really sounded like he genuinely didn't want him here. The Spaniard was about to say something, but Arthur waved a dismissive hand, "There's some green tea in the kettle, I shall be in the lobby. Please, do not cause a mess in here. Understand?"

"Oh…_si_," Antonio responded, nodding. He watched the British man leave with a slightly saddened expression.

So much for making a new friend out of his roommate.

A week and a few days had passed since Antonio had first moved into Arthur's apartment in the city, yet the Spaniard was still slightly dismayed that the British man didn't seem to like him much. Whenever Antonio tried to do something nice for the British man, he found that things grew worse.

For instance, Antonio had created some paella for the both of them to have for dinner one evening, only for the food to be too spicy for Arthur's mouth to take. Another time, Antonio had tried to make some tea for the both of them, but instead, he accidentally spilt some of the hot water onto Arthur's hand and caused a slight burn.

It finally ended when Arthur shouted, "Look! I don't give a rat's arse that you're living with me! But quit bothering me already! Do your own thing and I'll do my own! We don't have to talk or have anything to do with each other, got it?!"

Antonio was surprised to find himself deeply cut from the words and had gone downstairs to calm himself down after mumbling a small, "Okay…"

It took only a moment after for Arthur to realize how much those words must have really hurt the naïve and innocent Spaniard.

Antonio was sitting in the lobby with his guitar in hand. Silently, he was sadly strumming a few melancholic chords that let loose a soft vibrato. He sighed as he shook his head, "I've only known _Arturo _for a little while, _pero_…" he gave a sigh. "He's really mean…"

"Excuse me," the man at the counter for hotel registration beckoned to him. Curious, Antonio got up and came over. "Are you Antonio Fernandez Carriedo?" seeing him nod, the receptionist smiled. "I have something for you."

He then reached out and gave the Spaniard a letter.

Antonio read the top right-hand corner for the address and did a double take. He immediately ran back into the elevator and came back into his shared apartment. He disregarded that Arthur was in the kitchen and leapt into his room and onto his bed.

The Spaniard quickly ripped the envelope open and slipped the letter out. He began reading the contents and a smile quickly spread out onto his face as well as a jittery feeling overcoming his whole being.

_**Dearest Antonio,**_

_**How are you? It's been a little while, I know, but to me it feels so long! Everyone misses you so much, even Lovino though he claims he doesn't miss you at all. You know how he's like.**_

_**I hope you're doing alright where you are – have you made any new friends? It's nice if you did, but please don't forget us, alright? You better not have found another girl! Heehee. Anyway, the weather's been pretty bad lately back here in town – it's constantly pouring…but don't worry, I'm doing just fine! I keep myself warm, I use an umbrella, and I keep myself close to the fireplace. I really miss eating your churros, though…**_

_**I really hope we can see each other face-to-face someday in the future – I still think about your hugs and your smile…hope you're smiling where you are!**_

_**Love**_

_**Emma**_

Antonio couldn't help the stupid looking grin on his face and he immediately grabbed some sheets of paper as he settled onto his bed. He began writing down some lyrics onto the paper and hummed as he strummed some chords on his old friend and companion; his guitar.

It took Antonio several hours, but eventually, the Spaniard was able to complete writing the song he became inspired to write. He strummed again as he softly sang to himself to check if the song had any errors, musical or grammatical. Happy with his result, Antonio took an empty sheet of paper and began writing on it.

The next morning, Arthur was carrying a book filled with sheet music as well as a case that carried his flute. He was a little unnerved at how silent the apartment was and wondered what happened to his cheery roommate.

Did he leave? Or was something wrong with him?

The British man's question was answered when he carefully crept to Antonio's room and opened the door slightly a crack so as it wouldn't utter a creak. Arthur was surprised to find that Antonio was lying back on his bed, lightly snoring while clutching his guitar in hand. There were sheets of paper splayed out all around him.

Arthur was slightly amused at the sight and came closer to inspect. He saw some of the sheets had bars of music with a myriad of notes either in a crescendo ascent or a decrescendo descent. There were various symbols that signaled a forte or an accidental. There were other instances that signaled a chromatic rise or a ritardando pace.

The British man couldn't help but be impressed with the Spaniard's skill with song writing.

He came even closer and picked one of the sheets up, reading the lyrics under various crotchet and mini notes. His face was impassive as he glanced down at Antonio and saw that there was a sheet of paper with writing on it.

Despite knowing that it wasn't a gentlemanly thing to do by sticking his nose into his roommate's business without permission, Arthur's curiosity overrode that and he cautiously picked up the piece of paper as Antonio gave a moan and rolled onto his side, still clutching his guitar as if it were his life support.

_**Mi corazon Emma,**_

**_I know it's been kinda long, but I promise that it won't take _too _long to see you again. I know that you all worry about me and hope that I'm doing fine and honestly, I worry about all of you, too and I hope you're all doing great back there!_**

_**Please give Lovi a hug and tell him it was from me. I really wanna make up for all the lost time we had as well. I miss you sooooo much, mi amor, really; you've been in my thoughts twenty-four hours at a time.**_

_**Lots of love**_

_**Antonio**_

Arthur arched an eyebrow as he gazed at Antonio's sleeping face. He was silent as he next laid his eyes on a couple of photographs that the Spaniard had placed on his bedside table.

Many of them consisted of friends and family – there was a longhaired French man who the British man felt that he would hate upon meeting immediately, a Prussian who looked to have a big ego, and there were two Italians with strange curls. One looked happy and cheerful, while the other looked much more serious and grouchy.

'_I'll probably get along better with that one,'_ Arthur thought to himself in amusement as he continued looking at Antonio's pictures.

He eventually came across one that obviously held more affection than the others. Antonio was in the picture this time with a beautiful blonde Belgian girl. The Spaniard was kissing the girl's temple as she was giggling in the photo, the warm scene caught on camera.

Arthur said nothing as he continued staring at the picture. After a little while and returning it back to its place, the British man was shocked to find that his hands were shaking uncontrollably and he had grown very pale once he checked himself in the bathroom mirror. _'What on earth has gotten over me?'_ he wondered to himself. He shook his head as he adjusted his tie and exited the apartment.

'_Why should you care, Arthur Kirkland? That git is a stranger – you shouldn't stick your nose into his business. Even if he does remind you of…'_

When Antonio woke up the next day, he was shocked from the expression crossing Arthur's face.

It looked…guilty?

"Is there something wrong, _Arturo_?" he questioned, voice lined in concern.

"I believe…" Arthur looked a bit timid. He didn't dare look at the Spaniard in the eye as he cleared his throat and continued, "I apologize if I've acted like a complete git to you. Really, I am…"

Antonio's eyes widened; he was getting an apology? From his days on staying with the British man, the Spaniard could tell that he was a stubborn man who refused to let his pride get hurt. Yet, here he was apologizing to him. "_Qué_?" Antonio asked, confused.

Arthur looked irritated, "I'm giving you a bloody apology, you wanker! Now take it, or leave it!" he left before Antonio could say another word to him.

The British man's curtness only confused the Spaniard even more so than usual, but eventually, a smile broke out onto Antonio's face after he received a letter not only from just Emma, but his friends Francis, Gilbert, and even his cousins Feliciano and Lovino wrote to him.

Soon, the days transformed into weeks, and the weeks morphed into months. Finally, the months changed into a year. Antonio and Arthur weren't really close, but they were able to live with each other. Ever since the British man gave his abrupt apology, he seemed more relaxed with the Spaniard in the apartment. Antonio rejoiced at having Arthur's physical company; however the Brit didn't seem to enjoy it as much.

Instead, the British man just preferred an occasional conversation over tea. The Spaniard didn't mind though; as long as the two were in (what he assumed) good terms with one another.

However, things took a toll onto Antonio's well-being as the letters he gained from Emma were becoming less and less. Make no mistake, the Spaniard also gained letters from his family and friends back home, but Emma…

Soon, it became a habit for Antonio to go to the receptionist's counter every morning and night and question as to whether there was a letter for him from a particular address.

A simple shake of the head or a mere "_no_" from the receptionist was enough to cause a heavy impact on the Spaniard.

Another piece slowly ripped out from Antonio's heart as the Spaniard anxiously waited and waited for that letter from his love to come and reach him.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Arthur began to feel worried for the Spaniard as Antonio obviously became highly affected – he performed spectacularly when his time came in the auditorium, however the British man and the other musicians could plainly see that Antonio's feelings and interest did not reach his music anymore and soon, he seemed more like a wooden doll in their eyes.

It had been three years since Emma's letters had stopped and Arthur came back home to the apartment from helping Dracul in his magic store. The British man had entered the room and stood still when he could hear a soft noise reach his ears.

It was coming from Antonio's room.

Understandably worried, Arthur hurriedly made his way to the room and was taken aback when Antonio suddenly rushed out of his room, arm over his eyes.

However, that couldn't hide the fact that Arthur was able to see one tear slide down the Spaniard's cheek.

Seeing the Spaniard close the door as he hurriedly rushed out of the apartment, Arthur carefully entered Antonio's room.

Inside, there were a few boxes, which Arthur could make out as containing various mementos. There were also several creased sheets of paper now lying bare for him to see. The British man carefully came closer and crouched down as he picked up one of the pieces of paper.

_**Dearest Antonio,**_

_**So many things have been going on since you left, which was about a year ago. Everyone's grown and things are becoming so different! Francis and Gilbert have actually found someone to love! I know, isn't that amazing? Francis found a woman who's skillful at archery and mixed martial arts: Joan, I think her name was. He's also going to Paris with her to serve as the assistant to a fashion designer – you and I both know he hopes of making his own fashion line.**_

_**As for Gilbert, remember Elizaveta? That Hungarian girl who lives down the street that used to go to school with us and would beat him senseless with a frying pan? It turns out she actually liked him the whole time. Can you believe it?! She really cleans up nicely and he was so shocked when he saw her. You should've seen his face!**_

_**Little Feli is now in high school and he's a big hit among the ladies, so I've heard. He's still as bouncy and as cheerful as before. Lovino also grew up, too! Now that I look at him, I can't believe he was that same chubby, little kid who used to pull on my skirt and shout at me, "Besame! Dame un beso!" he's become so handsome now and he's a really smooth talker as well as a really polite and nice gentleman to the ladies. Before your mind blows up, don't worry – he's still our same, potty-mouthed Lovino, but with men. I still can't believe it; Lovino's no longer a cute little boy, but a handsome man…**_

_**How are you, anyway? That Arthur guy you described sounds a lot like Lovino; rough around the edges, but with a heart of gold. I'm sure you've gained everyone else's letters. I'll see you someday, maybe?**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Emma**_

Arthur dropped the piece of paper as he rushed out of the door, having a good hunch as to where the Spaniard had run off to.

When he exited the building, a huge drizzle of rain pounded down on him. The British man gave an angry hiss as he hurriedly ran through the cold and cruel weather until he eventually reached a building a few paces down the street with a glowing light burning from within.

As soon as he entered this new building, Arthur almost cried in relief at the sudden change of temperature: from the biting cold to welcoming warmth. There was some soft, snazzy jazz music played from a band as people relaxed in a lounge like setting with a bar close by.

Arthur peered around and soon enough, he saw a mop of slightly curly, mocha-coloured tresses sitting on a high stool at the bar, ordering the bartender for another shot.

"Another!" Antonio said in a raspy voice. When he came closer, though he expected it, Arthur couldn't help but still grow slightly alarmed at seeing that the Spaniard was in tears – his usually glistening and glowing green eyes were puffy and bloodshot, seemingly unable to run out of tears, and his tanned cheeks were pale, losing their once exotic tone.

The British man bit his lip as he took a seat beside the Spaniard. "Anthony…" he said quietly, unsure of what to say.

The Spaniard perked up and looked to his left. He relaxed his tense shoulders as he saw who addressed him, "Oh…it's you, _Arturo_…" he mumbled. "What do you want?"

"Anthony, what are you doing in a bar?" questioned Arthur in an even voice. "You just ran away from the apartment."

"I want a drink," Antonio responded curtly. "I just wanted a drink, that's all…"

Arthur arched an eyebrow, "And _why_ did you want a drink, old chap?"

Antonio shrugged, though it was plain to see that he was starting to get irritated, "I just wanted a drink! Is that a crime, _señor_ _Arturo_?"

"I read the letter you dropped."

Antonio became silent at this point as he stared at the glass the bartender just gave him. He peered at his reflection from the glass' smooth and shiny surface as well as the ginger liquid that sloshed from within it.

"That letter…wasn't that the one that your little love had given you last? The last one you got? Three years ago?"

Antonio bit his lip as his grip on the glass tightened up to the point that his knuckles were starting to become pale. Arthur shifted the stool closer to the Spaniard as he spoke again, "Anthony, I know that you must be very hurt from this…"

"How would you know, anyway?!" demanded Antonio, his green eyes were aflame as he furiously glared at the British man. Arthur couldn't help but feel chills run down his spine from the sheer intensity that the Spaniard's eyes beheld, "How the hell would you know how _I_ feel?! _Why _the hell would you care how _I_ feel?! You hate me!"

A scowl creased on Arthur's face as he collected his wits again, "What the bloody hell makes you think I hate you?"

That question caused Antonio to stop, his whole frame frozen. He gaped at the blonde beside him, his mouth flapping up and down like a fish. When he finally found his voice, the Spaniard could only choke out, "_Q-qué_?"

"Anthony," Arthur sighed as he took the glass filled with alcohol away from him. He gave the Spaniard a serious look, "I _never_ hated you; what on earth made you think of such a notion?"

Antonio bit his lip as he whispered, "I just…I thought you did; you never smile when I'm around…"

"That's just how I am," Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm just so worn out from work and a bunch of wankers I have to put up with there and what not, that I don't have the time to smile. I'm even like that around Dracul and Lukas!"

"You smile more often with them, though," grumbled Antonio as he took the glass again, only to be stopped by the British man.

"No more drinking for you," Arthur said firmly. "It won't help you at all; it'll only make you worse, chap. No matter how much alcohol you consume, you will just have an even emptier feeling tomorrow; trust me on this one. Not only will you feel so empty tomorrow, but the pain will become far worse than before – your hangover will add to that one."

All of a sudden, Antonio bristled in anger again, "Why the hell are you helping me?!" he demanded. "Who are you to tell me what to do? Have you ever felt this pain? Huh?! I'll only listen to you if you've experienced how _I _feel right now!"

"I have."

"_Pérdon_?"

Arthur gave a sad smile as he looked at the glass filled with alcohol, his eyes reflecting a strange fondness. "I _have _been through all of this," repeated the British man simply. "I _have _been through all of it; the alcohol and the pain…it's all too familiar…"

Antonio was silent; he never thought that Arthur of all people would actually experience heartbreak before. The Spaniard questioned softly, "How…_when _did you go through with it?"

Arthur's eyes wondered to the ceiling as he grew deep in thought. "Oh, I'm not sure, really…" he pondered. "I'd say about almost a year before you moved in."

The Spaniard stared at the British man beside him, now intrigued by the Brit's confession. He again moved closer as he questioned in a hushed voice, "What happened?"

Arthur traced a finger on the bar's sleek and shiny surface, "I originally came from a town near the sea, actually," he said, his eyes reflecting a hint of nostalgia. "There, I had met a girl – a lovely and lively one. Her name was Michelin. At first, we didn't like each other much, but afterwards…we grew fond of each other, I dare say. It took a lot of me to finally tell her how I truly felt…and she felt the same way. I got a job here in the city to perform here at the auditorium and so, I had to leave everyone behind…"

"How did she react?"

"She was upset with me, of course. But in the end, I left and we promised to write to each other every day," Arthur inspected the glass' surface, but his eyes seemed to be wandering onto something that wasn't in Antonio's line of view. "I met Dracul and Lukas; wonderful chaps they are, and we all became quite close. We got into a few misadventures, but we always came back on top."

Antonio couldn't help but give a smile to himself, _'Sounds just like Francis, Gilbert and me…'_

"As she promised, she wrote to me as the days passed on, and of course, I replied to her. But then one day…" Arthur paused; his emerald eyes now reminiscent as his expression softly morphed into one of deep consideration. "She just stopped writing. Just like that. At first, I thought that maybe something was wrong back at home, but it didn't seem that way since my little brother and cousin kept on writing to me; they still do! But as time passed by, I began to think that maybe it was me; maybe _I've _done something that caused her to stop writing to me…"

'_Just like Emma and me…'_ Antonio thought to himself, his full attention fixated onto the British man.

"As the days wore on, that very thought that maybe it was _my _fault grew stronger until I couldn't help myself," Arthur shook his head as he leaned slightly back on his high stool. "I came here for a drink and well…Lukas and Dracul found me shouting all sorts of things…they eventually brought me back to my own apartment and stayed with me for quite a while after that…"

"I see," Antonio said softly, feeling himself redden. He felt so ashamed of himself; Arthur had felt everything just like he did and here he was; strong, proud and stubborn while Antonio himself was moping, whining and crying like a child. "_Arturo_…" he said softly. "I'm…I'm so sorry; I never knew you went through that, too…"

Arthur waved a dismissive hand, "No need for apologies, old chap; you're just upset, that's all. I snapped at Dracul when he tried to take my glass away from me. Now, come on," the Brit stood up and offered his hand. "We're going home."

Antonio stared at it for a moment, his eyes fluttering as the whole room started to spin. Pain split his head and everything became dark…

…

…

…

Giving a groan, Antonio rolled over in his bed as the first few rays of sunlight glistened from the window and onto his tired face. The Spaniard shut his eyes again as he snuggled more into the soft sheets.

Soft sheets?

Antonio's eyes immediately shot open as he sat upright in the bed. He glanced around frantically only to calm his breathing as he realized that he was back in his room in his shared apartment. One thought confused him though as his head throbbed:

'_How did I get back here?'_

His thoughts were answered when Arthur quietly opened the door and bustled inside with a cup of herbal tea. The blonde sighed, "So, you're finally awake now?"

Antonio nodded as he fell right back into the pillows, "_Si_…what time is it, _Arturo_?"

"It's midday."

"Really?" the Spaniard groaned. "_Ay Dios mio_, how much did I drink?"

"Quite a lot actually," said Arthur, his voice lined with amusement. "I couldn't believe I found someone worse than I was at drinking!" he softened upon seeing that the Spaniard's eyes were still red and a bit puffy – the British man had observed him while he was sleeping and couldn't help but feel exceptionally sympathetic when tears poured down from Antonio's cheeks as he continued his deep slumber.

He must have loved that woman so much.

'_Much like a similar old fool.'_

"Hey, _Arturo_?" Antonio spoke up.

Arthur gave a slight jolt, brought out of his stupor. He shook his head and blinked, "Yes, Anthony?"

"About last night…" the Spaniard looked rather sheepish, much to Arthur's surprise; usually Antonio was quite confident in everything he did, adding a positive bounce as well. Him acting shy and last night's performance were still quite new to the British man.

Nonetheless, Arthur shook his head and nodded, "I'm quite sorry there, dove. Now, what is it?"

"You said…" Antonio fidgeted slightly, but shook his head and resumed, "I can sort of remember last night that…that you said you didn't hate me. Did you really mean that when you said it?"

Arthur blinked while his mind drawing onto a blank as his brain processed the question. _'This again?'_ he thought in slight exasperation. _'Why does he seriously worry about how I think of him? Well…'_ looking at the Spaniard's hopeful, grass green eyes, the British man rolled his eyes as he answered, "Of course, you wanker."

Despite how blunt and sharp the statement was, Antonio immediately brightened; his green eyes sparkled like how they were before, and a bright beam spread out across his face. "_Arturo_!" the Spaniard exclaimed happily as he suddenly leapt up and wrapped his arms around the British man, enveloping him in a tight, warm embrace. "I knew you didn't hate me! I'm so glad you don't!"

"H-hate…hate you?" echoed Arthur as he finally succeeded in pushing the Spaniard away before his oxygen supply could be cut off. "What the bloody hell makes you think I hate you?"

"Well…" Antonio sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "It's just, I always thought that you did; you always frown and you told me to leave you alone, so I just kinda assumed that you didn't like me…"

"Even if I did," Arthur sighed. "Why would you care about my opinion? Does it really matter that much to you?"

"Of course it does!" piped up Antonio. "We're roommates! We shouldn't be hating each other! And I don't like it when people hate me!"

"Why must it be such a huge concern for everyone to like you?" inquired Arthur.

Antonio licked his lips, "Because…if everyone likes you, it means you're a good person…"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, the emerald hues now becoming slits as he firmly placed his hands on the Spaniard's shoulders, "Do not try to always please everyone. Your happiness matters more than theirs."

Antonio blinked as he gazed right into the British man's eyes, the words sinking into his very being as Arthur continued.

"You _are _a genuinely good person; I can tell by the way you're sincere with everyone. By the way you help others, and by the way you consider everyone else's feelings. Nobody in this world is perfect; everyone has someone who loves them, and someone who isn't so fond of them, as well, but that's just how life is – if someone were to have nobody hate them, then they can't grow as a person and either discover the worst of themselves, or be inspire them to grow and continue on with life."

Once the British man finished his little speech, the Spaniard grew silent, feeling something inside him rise up his throat, causing a lump to form and soon, he felt his hands trembling.

Arthur had gotten up to go the kitchen, "Just relax for today and have enjoy your tea, alright, dove?"

Before Antonio could start drinking, he could hear the British man give one final phrase.

"And remember, that you're not alone in all of this, too."

Antonio stopped before his lips reached the cup's surface as he looked up; just in time to see Arthur's back disappear as the blonde softly shut the door. The Spaniard stared at his bedroom door for a little while, still feeling overwhelmed from the events that happened so recently, and leaned back against his bedpost.

He turned his head around to see the photo of him and Emma; when they were young and in love. The Spaniard gave a sad smile as he slowly reached out and lowered the frame, face-down so that the photo was no longer viewable. He then sipped his green tea and sighed in relief, feeling much better.

'_Muchas gracias, Arturo, mi amigo.'_

* * *

_And thus concludes this fic. Honestly, I'm quite pessimistic at the idea of long-distance relationships, but that doesn't mean that they don't always _not _work. If anyone was confused with anything; Lars was Netherlands, Emma was Belgium, Dracul was Romania, Lukas was Norway, and finally Michelin was Seychelles._

_Definitely would like to know your thoughts and opinions. Have a nice day! :DDD_


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